Love
by TinAlbert
Summary: Faith thinking about her new relationship with Buffy - Who doesn't love some fluffy Fuffy? Strong T for language and sex references, nothing graphic. All reviews appreciated!


_**A/N **_**Howdy folk, this is my second published fanfic, so be gentle, but I do appreciate all feedback – the good, the bad and the ugly! **

**Strong T I think, one use of the S word and some mild sex references, nothing graphic. **

**For PenTheHeart, because she puts up with all my bugging:**

**Love**

_Love._ Ugh, the very word was disgusting, sickly sweet as it dripped from the tongue. Love was for the weak, the ones that couldn't manage on their own. Faith Lehane was many things, but she was never weak. So when my feelings for Buffy developed beyond my usual "get-off-and-get-out", "wham, bam, thank you ma'am" level, I admit, I wasn't best pleased.

It started with a little flirting - a few winks, a couple of brush ups, nothing more. What can I say? B was hot, and when the double H's strike you can't blame a girl for getting a little antsy. Soon though, winks became pecks on the cheek, brush ups became hand-holding, and the double H's became butterflies in my stomach. Things changed, almost without me noticing.

I didn't like it.

Heck, I tried to avoid it! Avoid Buffy, avoid this horrible twisting in the pit of my gut when I saw her, avoid having to look at the girl and _feel things_. The amount of vamps that got beat on in my frustration was probably more than I'd care to admit, but hey, rather a demon from Hell gets a little pain than some innocent bystander when I got angry.

Maybe things would've stayed that way, ducking and weaving, playing cat and mouse forever, or at least until one of us pissed off the wrong demon, but B wasn't having it. The more I pulled away, the more the girl followed, and the more she followed, the further my resolve crumbled.

It was always the same pattern too; I'd be minding my own business, doing my thing, and along would come B. Suddenly, the day I had planned went out the window, all thoughts of demon-slaying or visiting the Bronze gone. I went from a badass Slayer to Buffy's lapdog in minutes, the second she whipped out that pout of hers! Defeating some Big Bad, fetching her sister to and from wherever she needed to be, listening to B's problems, being a shoulder to cry on – it didn't matter what she needed, I was there to do it.

I knew what whipped was when I saw it; it'd just never had it happen to me before. I'm pretty sure everyone knew what was going on, what with Spike's jealous looks and Xander's sniggering every time B sent me one of her little flirty smiles and I went all pathetic and melty_. _Red must've been thrilled, I guess, finally having someone to talk to about her Sapphic ways. Well, it's not like she ever spoke to me aside from a few terrified squeaks, but B was her best friend, so I'm assuming they like, _shared stuff_, and shit. The only person probably out of the loop would have been Giles; the guy's glasses never seemed to help him see what was right in front of him.

Of course, following B round like some love-struck puppy was only the first half of the pattern. The second part was always the same too; my realising what was happening, and freaking out. Occasionally there'd be fights – not violence, I could never physically hurt her – once or twice I just took off. But other times –the best times – I would ignore my instincts, and sometimes, just sometimes, I'd stay.

Most nights though, that didn't happen. Most nights, I'd end up sitting in my underwear on my bed at 3am, having just kicked some random muscle head out, still half undressed. I'd curl up alone, attempting to ignore the incessant nagging in my head - the one that wondered what B was doing, if she was thinking about me – and try to sleep.

Not going to lie, waking up cold and lonely in my dingy motel room was not as much fun as the other option. Waking up with my arms around Buffy, her face buried in my shoulder as she slept, feeling her heartbeat steady against mine and knowing that, right then, it was just me and her. I'd never felt quite as safe and content as I did when that happened.

Pretty soon, it began to happen more and more. Hell, after a couple of months of ducking and weaving, I went a full week without running from Buffy, and I'd never been happier. Of course, eventually, a decision had to be made. Buffy clearly wasn't about to go all out with any declarations of love, she seemed pretty terrified I'd bolt (heck, so was I!), so it was up to me.

I knew my options; to ignore my feelings, pretend I didn't feel anything, stay in my usual ways – safe, but heart-breaking – or take the plunge and admit my feelings to myself and Buffy – possibly amazing, but not down my usual alley and utterly terrifying, even for a badass like myself.

The rest, as they say, is History. 3 months in now, and things are going fine. So far, no demonic body swaps, no runaways on my part, and the world hasn't ended yet, so I'd say things are pretty much five by five.

Now, as we lie under the stars, Buffy curled up beside me as I run my fingers through her hair, the words, those scary, elusive, words I used to hate so damn much come to my tongue, and I blurt them out without thinking.

"I love you."

And when Buffy turns to me, tears in her eyes as she returns the sentiment with a kiss, I feel like I've found something I never even knew I was missing.

Maybe love isn't so bad after all?


End file.
